"Corrupted Grace"

The school bell rings, but I'm still sitting on the rooftop. My legs feel like lead, and my heart hasn't stopped racing since that guy vanished. A strange, cold sensation lingers in my chest, as if his presence left a stain on the air. The staff in my hand flickers before fading into nothingness. It doesn't disappear—it's like it sinks back into me, into some part of myself I didn't even know existed.

What the hell just happened?

I pull myself up and force my legs to move. My body feels heavier than it should, like I've run a marathon. I glance down at my hands—normal again, no glowing runes or twisted weapon. The world looks... normal. The students below chatter and laugh, completely unaware that some guy just tried to kill me up here.

I wipe the sweat from my forehead and head downstairs.

By the time I make it back to class, everyone's staring at me again. Some of the girls whisper to each other, a couple of guys snicker, and the teacher gives me a withering look. "Damian, I'd appreciate it if you didn't disappear during lunch. Take your seat."

"Sorry," I mutter, sliding into my chair.

The rest of the day drags on, and I barely register any of it. My mind keeps replaying the fight on the rooftop. The glowing staff. The man who moved like a shadow. And that word—Sacred Gear. What the hell is that?

When the final bell rings, I'm the first one out the door. I'm halfway across the courtyard when a voice calls out behind me.

"Hey, new guy!"

I turn to see a boy jogging up to me. He's got brown hair, a goofy smile, and an energy that makes me instantly tired. He's wearing the same uniform as me, but he doesn't bother with the blazer—it's tied around his waist.

"I'm Issei," he says, clapping me on the shoulder like we're old friends. "Saw you zoning out in class. Rough first day, huh?"

"You could say that," I reply, shrugging off his hand.

"Don't sweat it. Kuoh's not so bad once you get used to it. Well, unless you're me. Then it's a daily struggle." He grins, but there's a nervous edge to it, like he's trying to laugh off something he doesn't want to say.

I nod, already regretting engaging with him. "Right. Thanks. I've gotta—"

Before I can finish, someone else joins us. A girl this time, with long black hair and piercing violet eyes. She moves with a grace that's almost unnatural, and for a moment, I think she's going to walk right past us. But she stops, her gaze fixed on me.

"You're Damian, right?" she asks, her voice calm and measured.

"Yeah," I say warily.

"I'm Akeno Himejima," she says, giving me a polite bow. "The student council wanted me to welcome you to Kuoh Academy. If you have any questions, feel free to ask."

Her tone is friendly enough, but there's something in her eyes—like she's sizing me up.

"Thanks," I say, not really sure how else to respond.

Issei chuckles awkwardly. "Akeno's part of the school's elite. You're lucky she's taking the time to talk to you."

Akeno smiles, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. "I just like to make sure our new students feel at home."

"Right," I mutter. "Well, I've got somewhere to be."

I turn and walk away before they can stop me. My nerves are shot, and the last thing I need is more attention. But as I head toward the school gates, I can feel someone watching me.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and I glance over my shoulder. Akeno is still standing there, her eyes following me. Issei is chatting away, completely oblivious.

The walk home is uneventful, but the weight in my chest hasn't lifted. Every shadow seems deeper, every sound sharper. I keep expecting someone to jump out at me, but the streets are quiet.

When I finally reach the apartment I'm renting, I lock the door behind me and let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding.

The place is nothing special—just a one-bedroom with the basics. I drop my bag by the door and collapse onto the couch, staring at the ceiling.

My thoughts are a tangled mess. That guy on the rooftop—who was he? How did he know about the staff? And why did it feel like he knew me, like he'd been waiting for me?

I close my eyes, hoping to shut out the questions, but sleep doesn't come.

It's past midnight when I hear the knock.

Three sharp raps, too loud in the stillness of the night.

I freeze, my heart hammering in my chest. No one should be here.

The knock comes again, more insistent this time.

I get up slowly, every instinct screaming at me to stay quiet, stay hidden. But my body moves on its own, drawn to the door.

I press my eye to the peephole, expecting... I don't know what. A mugger? A police officer?

What I see is worse.

It's the man from the rooftop.

He stands there, calm as ever, his hands in his pockets. His silver hair glints in the moonlight, and his eyes lock onto mine through the peephole.

"Open the door, kid," he says, his voice muffled but unmistakable.

I back away, my pulse racing.

"I know you're in there," he continues. "We need to talk. Or I could just break the door down, but I don't think your landlord would appreciate that."

I glance around the room, looking for something—anything—I can use as a weapon. But before I can grab the lamp off the table, the door swings open on its own.

The man steps inside, closing it behind him.

"Much better," he says, looking around. "Nice place. Bit small, though."

I grip the lamp in my hand, ready to swing. "Who the hell are you, and what do you want?"

He smirks. "Relax, kid. I'm not here to hurt you. If I was, you'd already be dead."

"Comforting," I say, not lowering the lamp.

He steps closer, his eyes narrowing. "You've got questions. I've got answers. But first, you need to understand something."

"Understand what?"

He points at me, and for the first time, I see the faint glow in his hand—a mark, similar to the runes on the staff.

"You've been chosen by something ancient, something dangerous. The [Corrupted Priest] doesn't pick its host lightly."

"Host?"

He nods. "You're part of something much bigger now. Angels, devils, fallen—they're all going to come for you. The question is, are you ready to fight?"

I don't answer. I can't.

Because deep down, I already know the answer.